


Fragments of a Fractured Heart

by CelestialVoid



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Blood Magic, Blood and Injury, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Heavy Angst, Human Bill Cipher, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mabel Pines Dies, Mabel Returns, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Weirdmageddon, Reincarnation, Self-Destruction, Self-Harm, Slow Build Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Trust Issues, Work In Progress, revivial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10098464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialVoid/pseuds/CelestialVoid
Summary: They had been together nearly thirteen years, inseparable, until the day Dipper lost Mabel and now, he’s willing to go to the extreme to bring her back.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be honest with you straight off the bat: I started writing this over a year ago and it kind of died off until the other day when I thought of something to add into it, so I'm only just getting back to writing it now. It's still a W.I.P that needs a lot more planning and writing and is far off being finished. To be honest, I don't know whether I'll ever get around to finishing this (I have written a couple of chapters, but not the whole fic I thought of ages ago). That being said, the updates for this fic are going to be seriously spaced out and it may never be completely finished, sorry (I hope it will be eventually, but I don't know if I can do it). Regardless, that doesn't mean I'm not going to try. I do have other things in progress, but I do want to get this one out of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a long while since I've worked on this fic, and I'm going to be honest: I've lost interest in it. I did have some stuff planned but I've been struggling to write it and get any further than what has been posted here on AO3. So the truth is, this fic will remain a W.I.P.   
> I WILL NOT be writing any more of it.  
> I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, but I just can't continue with this fic.

“ _Eennie..._ ”

The world around them lit up red and Bill’s pupil split into the dark silhouette of a pine tree.

Dipper tried as hard as he could to break free of Bill’s hold, pummelling at the demon’s thick black fingers with his balled fists. The demon’s grip tightened around his waist, burning agony searing his blood and knocking the air from his lungs.

Bill blinked, the shape of the pine tree symbol disappearing as cold, inky black shadows rolled over them.

“ _Meenie_ …”

The eye flew open again and red light returned, Bill’s iris taking the shape of a shooting star.

Dipper tuned to his sister, eyes wide as he watched her push against Bill’s hand, desperate to break free of the demon’s hold.

Bill tightened his grip, listening to the children wheeze and whimper as their ribs splintered and shards of bone dug into the tissue of their lungs and clawed at their skin from the inside out. Dipper felt his ribs burn as blood pooled around the torn flesh, Bill’s hold being the only thing stopping him from bleeding out.

Bill blinked his eye shut, darkness filling the room.

“ _Miney_ …”

Bill glared down at them, his pupil spreading into the shape of a solid isosceles triangle.

The twins looked up at the glowing eye that loomed over them.

Dipper held his breath, slowly reaching across the space between him and Mabel with his trembling his hand.

The light disappeared again.

Bill blinked his eyes open.

“ _You_!”

The harsh light blinded them, but the shape was unmistakable.

Shooting star.

Bill raised his free hand, pressing the buds of this thick black fingers together.

“No!” Dipper screamed, the howl tearing at his dry throat and emptying his lungs, but it was too late. The demon snapped his fingers, the deafening snap ringing in Dipper’s ears. His eyes burnt with tears of pain and his head span as the muffled world around him slowly came back into clarity. The second it did, he wished it hadn’t. He turned to his twin, watching her eyes light up yellow and her dark pupils split. Her mouth was wide open, an agonising scream tearing past her soft pink lips. It rattled in Dipper’s chest and for a moment he could swear he felt some of his twin’s pain.

He looked into her eyes, startled by the how much pain flooded her dark irises.

“Mabel,” Dipper screamed, reaching out for his sister, hands trembling as he strained against Bill’s hold, pummelling his hand and clawing his way towards his twin.

Glistening tears fell past her heavy eyelashes, ruby-red droplets of blood falling after them, caressing her cheeks and leaving thick red trails of blood that clung to her skin. Splatters of blood and strings of saliva fell from her lips, the bitter smell of copper burning at Dipper’s nose, his gut twisting as he watched helplessly, tears streaming from his eyes.

Ford’s husky voice rang through the muffled sounds, screaming threats at Bill while Stan called to Mabel.

But they were too late. She was gone.

Mabel’s irises returned to normal. Almost.

The once-glistening depths of her eyes swarmed with ghosts, swirling like smoke against glass. Dipper swallowed hard, unable to look away from his sister’s lifeless body as she collapsed, her weak, slender body slumping against Bill’s hand.

Dipper felt as though he couldn’t breathe, snot and tears dripping down his face as the demon’s cynical laughter radiated through him, rattling his bones and boiling his blood.

Thin ribbons of blood glistened as they trickled across Mabel’s pale skin and dripped across the bridge of her nose and pooling on Bill’s hand before falling to the ground. Strands of her wavy brown hair clung to the trails of blood that smeared her face, the frail ends flickering about, disturbed by the weak breeze that rolled through the gaping hole in the wall of Bill’s pyramid.

Dipper felt his rage sear his body, heat coursing through his veins as his own scream tore at his throat, emptying his lungs. He span around - - ignoring the pain of his ribs shattering and digging into his side - - and slammed his fist into the demon’s eye.

He felt a staring moist liquid substance seep around his hand, his knuckles rupturing it like the skin of a tomato, ooze spilling over his hand as he sunk in further.

The demon let out a feral screech, relinquishing his hold on the younger Pines twins.

The world around Dipper shattered as if he had punched a mirror, shards reflecting his disturbed face – bloodshot eyes, tear-stained cheeks, dark shadows under his eyes, and emotionless, soulless depths of his irises.

The fragments circled around him, spiralling like a tornado. It whipped the mess of his unkempt hair about, knocking his hat from the cushion of curls and lifting the thick hair to reveal his birthmark, the constellation of the little dipper that branded his forehead.

Boiling black tar streamed over his balled fist as he lowered it. The black mess flooded through the cracks, lapping at his ankles and climbing up his body as gravity took a hold of him and he fell weightlessly towards the ground.

He shut his eyes for a second, opening them only to turn towards his sister’s lifeless body as it fell beside him. He reached out towards her, hands trembling as he watched the darkness consume her slender body.

He called out her name but it was silenced by the black abyss, the thick black ink consuming him, clawing at his limbs like the hands of the damned. It was gross; cold and sticky as it filled his mouth and encased him.

He tried to fight it, tried to scream, but the boiling ooze consumed him.

He couldn’t see. It was just black.

Inescapable darkness.

From among the abyss, the sharp voice rang in his ear, chilling him to the core.

“ _We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again. Some sunny day_.”

Dipper bolted upright, gasping for air. He shivered against the bitter chill of the night, slowly rising from his bed and stripping off the thin cotton of the sweat-soaked tee-shirt he considered his pyjamas. He crawled across his room, dragging his feet over to the small cupboard on the far wall. He pulled a shirt out of the wardrobe, tugging it over his head and pulling it down over his slender body.

He paced about his room, trying to exhaust himself enough that he could sleep again, but he knew it was pointless. It never worked.

Dipper edged his way across his bedroom, cautiously steeping through the darkness of the early morning and opening his bedroom door. He crept into the hallway of the Shack, carefully placing his feet on the newer floorboards or the panels of wood that were still securely fastened in place as so they wouldn’t squeak and alert Wendy or Soos.

After Weirdmageddon had finished, the Mystery Shack had been rebuilt and Stan and Ford had left on their round-the-world adventure, leaving Soos in charge of the Shack. Wendy spent her time between her home and the Shack, sleeping over when Dipper came to visit during the summer and occasionally for a weekend throughout the year – just to make sure he was okay. And if he were to be honest; he wasn’t okay.

He made his way downstairs and into the lounge room. He collected the novel he had been reading off of the table and sat down in the small chair in the corner of the room, turning on the lamp beside him. He flipped open the pages and read, finding comfort in the numbness of immersion as he intently focused on nothing more than the black printed text on the faded white pages.

The edges of the pages had been thumbed smoothed by the countless amount of times he had read it.

It was a couple of hours before the other residents began to emerge. Wendy was the first – a habit she had developed after years of taking care of their dad and three brothers. She made her way downstairs and sighed when she saw Dipper curled up on the small chair, eyes heavy and dropping as he stared at the book in his lap. She stepped across the small lounge room and gently tussled his hair. She sat down on the edge of the couch.

He sat upright, shivering despite the warmth of a summer day already setting in.

“It was just another nightmare,” Dipper muttered, trying to dismiss her concern.

“Want to talk about it?”

Dipper shook his head. “It’s the same thing every night. Just another nightmare.”

“Alright,” Wendy sighed. She looked at him for a moment to see whether there was any hints she could pick up on, but there wasn’t, there never was, Dipper was too good at hiding them.

Wendy was still a gorgeous young lady with long auburn hair and soft eyes but Dipper had gotten over his childish crush years ago. Now she was like a big sister or a close friend he could confide in without fearing judgment or condescension.

“Have you taken your medication?” Wendy asked softly.

Dipper shook his head again.

Wendy nodded and rose from the couch. She gently tussled his unkempt hair and strolled into the kitchen, rifling through cupboards and the fridge as she got breakfast ready for the household. She returned to the lounge room minutes later with a glass of creamy white milk and a handful of pills; Dipper’s medication.

Dipper moaned, disgruntled as he set his book aside and held out his hands for the glass and pills. It was habitual but now: take them and get it over with. He wasn’t sure whether the various medications and antidepressants helped but Wendy and Soos said that he was getting better. Slowly.

His parents had tried to send him to various counsellors, psychologists and psychiatrists, but Dipper hadn’t taken to any of them. But things seemed easier when he spent time in Gravity Falls. The isolated town and familiar faces seemed to work better for him than any pills or drugs. Finally, his parents had given up and agreed to let him go back to Gravity Falls.

Stan, Ford and Soos had come to the agreement that when Dipper finished school, they’d offer to hand over the Mystery Shack to him, or if he didn’t want the responsibility he could move in with them – now that the Shack had been renovated to fit more people after it was wrecked during the drama and events of Weirdmageddon. But for now, he was always welcome at the Shack.

Ford had offered to privately tutor Dipper or take him on as an apprentice if he wished to drop out of school and stay in Gravity Falls. He had also offered to help him with university if he were to choose that path – he was certainly gifted enough to do so.

But that was still a few years away.

Dipper stared at the small pebble-like pills that sat in the palm of his hand. He drew in a deep breath, telling himself it would be easier if he just got it over with, and tipped the pills into his mouth. He quickly gulped down mouthfuls of milk, swallowing the pills before the bitter taste set in.

He finished off the glass of milk, watching thin ribbons of moisture stream down the smooth edged of the glass as the few remaining drops gathered in a ring at the base of the glass. He held the glass in his hands for a second, immersed in thought.

Soos emerged a few minutes later, dressed in his old question mark tee-shirt and a pair of jeans. He hurried into the kitchen and collected his breakfast, scurrying about and collecting up the things he needed for the day. The Shack was closed today so he was taking Melody on a date.

The lady in question made her way downstairs in a floral dress that complimented her brilliantly, swirling about her knees and flickering with her movements. Her golden curls were held back in a tight ban, a couple of the shorter stands falling free about her face.

Dipper met her eye. She smiled kindly and Dipper nodded to her.

“You look lovely,” he whispered.

A soft blush coloured her cheeks. “Thank you.”

She span about on the spot, showing off the billowing waves of fabric that rippled around her. For a second, Dipper could imagine that if Mabel had survived she would have been a lot like Melody: kind, gentle, energetic and beautiful.

But she didn’t survive.

Dipper dropped his head, hiding his head in the shadows so that he wouldn’t offend Melody when his smile dropped. He picked up his book and slid his bookmark back in place before he set it back on the table and rose to his feet. He collected his empty glass and dragged himself across the smooth dips of the floorboards that had been worn down over time, avoiding splintering his bare feet.

He washed his glass and dried it, setting it aside in the cupboard where it belonged.

“I’ve got to head home today,” Wendy announced, flipping a pancake out of the pan and setting it atop the stack she had piled up on the plate. She turned and set it down in front of Dipper as the slender teen sat down in the old creaking chair.

“Everything okay?” Dipper asked, looking up at her with concern as he dipped his fork into the stack of pancakes. He jolted upright at the thundering crash that rang through the air. His eyes darted over to where Soos quickly straightened up the various objects he had knocked over, frantically apologising to the two of them, especially Dipper.

“Yeah, it’s nothing bad. Only that in the short time I’ve been gone my two younger brothers have managed to break two shelves, set a couch on fire, pull the door off the fridge, wash their sheets in soda and bleach and made a game of shaving off each other’s eyebrows while the other sleeps. So they’ve called in my help to fix it all up before my dad gets back this week, which means I’m going to have to go into the city or the next town over to look for furniture and sheets while my younger brother – who only got home from Canada last night – fixes the shelves and scolds the young ones.” She sat down across from Dipper, cupping a mug of warm coffee in the palms of her hands. She lifted her head to look Dipper in the eye. “Are you going to be okay by yourself for a few hours? You can come with me if you’d like, we could go shopping for some new clothes for you - - I think that shirt is getting a little threadbare and some of the others are a little tight, who knew you’d grow so much? - - and while we’re there maybe we could look into a hippie shop for crystals or something to help you sleep better.”

Soos straightened, turning his worried gaze to Dipper. “You’re still not sleeping right?”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” Dipper muttered, hanging his head and shovelling a forkful of fluffy pancake into his mouth. “I’ll be fine here on my own. But if you’re still offering, could you pick me up a shirt or two? I’m about your brother’s size now.”

“If you send me out there alone, I’m most likely only bringing back plaid,” Wendy warned him, trying to phrase it as a threat in order to convince the boy to get out of the house for a while.

Dipper shrugged. “I don’t mind. I prefer red though. And a couple of plain tees would be useful too.”

“You can come with me so you can pick out what you want,” Wendy suggested, her voice strained with effort as she tried not to force him or beg him.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay here and try and get some more sleep or just go for a walk,” Dipper mumbled, mopping up the thick syrup on his plate with the last few remaining chunks of pancake.

Wendy sighed, defeated. “Okay, but keep your phone on you. I’ll send you photos of anything you might like. And call me if you need anything.”

“I will,” Dipper promised, but he was already zoning out; distancing himself from the world. He didn’t hear anything that she said after that, and he didn’t really notice when Soos and Melody left, or when Wendy followed not long after, but as he drew himself back to reality he found himself standing at the end of the dark hallway, light lapping at his heels as he stared at the narrow, eyes fixed on the withered steps that led up to the attic. He hadn’t been up there since he was twelve and had to clear out the room – their room. It had hurt him to box up the hundreds of hand-knitted sweaters, the glitter-filled photo albums and all of his sister’s treasured belongings. In the four years since he hadn’t been able to step into that attic. He never could bring himself to it.

Yet every day he found himself staring at the withered wood of the stairs, the old pine panels darkened with age and blackened with ash and dust.

Sometimes he swore he could hear her up there, giggling and talking to Waddles about her newest glitter-soaked creation or her scrapbooked memories or the new sweater she had fashioned and knitted and threatened to show off to the world.

In his mind, she hadn’t aged a day. She was still the bubbly twelve year old that had stood by his side and challenged the world. And when she was there, he wasn’t sixteen anymore; he was the shy twelve year old boy who hid behind his books or the Journals and smiled in secrecy at Mabel’s overjoyed squeals or ongoing rants about boys, glitter, or whatever it was that had caught her attention that week.

But at one point or another the illusion became apparent and his image of her shattered, and he found himself at the foot of the stairs; alone and sixteen.

He turned away from the stairs and stormed towards his bedroom. Once there he rummaged through his closet for a thick plaid shirt. He pulled it on, letting it hang open over his faded grey tee-shirt. He pulled a pair of skinny black jeans on over his slender legs.

He had grown since he was twelve: gaining some muscle mass on his arms and torso, but he was still rather slender; a result of a combination of a high metabolism and years of refusing to eat or simply zoning out for so long that he forgot to eat.

He slumped on the edge of his mattress, wrestling with his socks and shoving his feet into his thick black boots.

He grabbed his favourite cap – the one with the blue shape of a pine tree on it – off of ground from wherever he had tossed it last night before bed, tugging it down over the mess of his curly brown hair that cushioned his head.

He scurried out of his room, chased by the swirling whispers of ghosts and memories; a cascading wave of noise that lapped at his heels. He sprinted down the stairs, stumbling over his own feet as he hurried down the hallway and out through the shopfront. He burst through the front door, stumble into the open space of the front yard.

It was quiet, peaceful; silent.

The door groaned on its hinges as it shut behind him.

“Do you miss it?” a soft voice whispered. Mabel stepped into his peripheral vision. “Do you miss our summers?”

“I do.”

“Which bit?” She asked softly. “The adventure? The mysteries? The danger? Me? Or him?”

Dipper fell silent. He didn’t know how to answer that.

“You were going to be Ford’s apprentice, why not now?”

“Because I promised I’d go home with you.”

“And you didn’t, so why didn’t you take him up on his offer?”

Dipper sighed, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “I don’t know… It’s just not the same without you.”

There was a moment of silence.

Dipper felt his heart ache as he muttered, “I miss you, Mabel.”

There was no reply, only the sound of the breeze rustling the trees and the old, rusty roof compass creaking as it span about.

Dipper looked up.

Mabel was gone.

“Of course,” Dipper muttered to himself, straightening his back as he turned away from the house and buried his hands in his pocket, making his way over to the tree line and stepping into the shadows of the forest that surrounded the Shack.

He knew the forest off by heart: every tree, every bush, every path, and every creature that lurked among the shadows of the mysterious depths and rugged foliage. The bleached skeletons of the surrounding birch trees loomed over him, the rippling bark shaped like eyes that never left him. The sweet scent of pine trees intermingled with the birch trees, their thick branches reaching out for the boy as the dark, rough bark of their trunks and thin but lush, green pine needles contrasting the birch trees around him and surrounding the boy.

He wove his way through the labyrinth of trees and undergrowth, clambering over fallen branches and hollow logs until he came to a clearing. A thick sheet of green moss covered the forest floor and the scattered forget-me-nots littered the forest floor, their vibrant blue petals and fluorescent yellow centres standing out against the lush of the greens and dull browns and greys that coloured the forest. It was silent in this part of the forest: no birds, no wind, no critters scattering through the fallen leaves or overhanging branches. Anaemic light bled through the parting in the foliage, particles sparkling in the glowing stream as the light lit up the dark grains of the solid statue, an image that had haunted his dreams since he was a child; Bill Cipher.

Dipper didn’t remember much about what happened during Weidmageddon. He couldn’t remember anything but his sister’s face; the pain, the fear, and the relief in the moment that she had died. Stan and Ford tell him that they had swapped clothes and impersonated each other so that Stan could trap Bill in his mind and Ford could use the memory gun to destroy the demon, but it was Dipper and Mabel who had provided them with enough time to forge and execute their plan. But Dipper didn’t remember that. He just remembered seeing Mabel – bloody, broken and buried – slumped weakly in Bill’s hold and unmoving.

But Bill no longer existed, all that remained now was the solid statue of the physical form he had taken; a corpse that he had left behind.

The dark grains of the stone had been chipped and stains, patches bleached and other darkened by dew, mould and shadows. The rigid edges of his isosceles form had been chipped away by time and age. Its lower half was burrowed into the ground, over run by the green earth and entangled in tethers of grass and thick vines.

He slid his fingers into the thin gap beneath the statue, a small space where he had hidden one of Ford’s scalpels after everyone had discovered Dipper had been self-harming and decidedly ‘Dipper-proofed’ the house – in other words: they hid all the knives, scissors and sharp objects and banned Dipper from cooking or doing anything that would require coming into contact with said sharp objects or fire or heated objects or anything that Dipper could potentially hurt himself.

He unwrapped the sharp blade from the thick cloth he had hidden it in and sat down amongst the soft moss. He rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, exposing the pale flesh of his left forearm. The soft skin of his forearm had been tainted by the raised white and pink scars that he had inflicted upon himself.

He brought the tip of the blade to his skin, pressing down on it until it broke past the resistance and drew a small bead of crimson blood.

He didn’t feel the pain, not anymore. He was numb to it.

He carved the symbol into his arm, the large circle of symbols that surrounded the illustration of the dream demon in the centre. He tried to move by habit, ignoring the rage that boiled in his blood as he engraved Bill’s image into his arm and the twist of pain and sorrow that knotted his stomach as he moved the narrow blade around the shape of the shooting star.

He dropped the blood-soaked scalpel to the soft woven threads of moss, rubbing his hand across his arm to clear away the mess of blood and reveal the thick red gashes of the summoning circle.

He shut his eyes and breathed deeply.

“I know you can hear me, Cipher; if you’re in my dreams then in theory you should still exist,” Dipper whispered, his arms dropping weakly to his sides. “What was it you said? ‘My time has come to burn. I invoke the power that I may return’? Well, I’m going to take a guess and say it worked.”

Dipper lifted his gaze and glared at the statue.

“I want to make a deal.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dipper laid among the cold, grey, dew-dampened moss.

The monochromatic colouring of the world around him made it pretty obvious he wasn’t awake anymore. He knew the dreamscape well, the feeling of being somewhere different even though it looks the same as the world you were just in, just like home… only in grayscale.

He sat upright, looking around at the blaring white birch trees and dull grey pine tree trunks. The sweet scent of the pine needles seemed so fake, resembling reality too perfectly.

The dreamscape was eerily silent; the branches of the trees stirred by a light breeze but not fluttering and rustling.

Blue flames lit up a ring around him, flickering and lapping at him as if they were ready to devour him.

Dipper rose to his feet, standing proud and fearless.

 “Well, well, well, well, well, well, well.” The shrill voice rang in his ears as a bright yellow glow circled around him. “Look who came crawling back to me.”

“Don’t test me, Bill,” Dipper growled, keeping his eyes focused forward until the demon decided to settle down and hover before the teen. “I’m the only thing keeping you alive. I can forget you, wipe you out forever. So shut up and listen to what I have to say.”

“Geez, Pine Tree, you’re so testy. Must be your teenage hormones.”

Dipper narrowed his glare and the demon flinched, shocked.

“Okay, okay,” Bill cooed, lifting his hands in defence before slowly lowering himself to sit atop the solid statue of himself. “I’m listening.”

“Here’s my deal: I bring you back if you bring Mabel back.”

“Couple of problems there, Pine Tree. One, I’m already in existence, thanks to your tendance to linger on certain traumatic events. Two, already existing means that the favour in return is not that great and so you’re going to have to up the ante there. And three, Shooting Star’s dead. He has been for - - what? - - four years now. Not much I can do there, buddy.”

“One, don’t call me ‘buddy’,” Dipper growled. “Two, I have the memory gun. Your existence lies in my hands. I _will_ erase my memories and you along with them. That makes your existence a viable part of this deal. And finally, if you’re half of the brilliantly powerful demon you claim to be then you should be able to give me back my sister.”

“I’m a _dream_ demon, Pine Tree,” Bill reminded him. “Without a physical form I cannot affect reality.”

“So, in order to do this you need a body?” Dipper reiterated, looking Bill in the eye. “Of your own or possessed?”

“Either, just a physical form by definition.”

“Fine,” Dipper agreed. “You can use me.”

“Huh?” Bill’s eye flew wide open, looking at Dipper with shock.

“You need a physical form. I will let your possess me for the time it takes to bring Mabel back. But no rifling through my memories. So, what will it be? If you give me Mabel, I’ll give you life, or you could refuse my deal and perish forever.”

Bill thought for a moment.

Dipper locked his jaw, glaring at Bill. “Do we have a deal?”

Bill narrowed his eye at the boy. “What about afterwards?”

“What?”

“What about afterwards?” Bill repeated.

“I won’t let you possess me after that. No way.”

“Fine,” Bill huffed, offended. “But I would like a physical form one day. That was fun.”

“Do we have a deal or not, Cipher?” Dipper snapped.

“Fine.” Bill’s hand flared up, the pale blue flames consuming his elegant fingers as he stretched his arm and offered his hand to Dipper.

Dipper glared at the demon’s flaming palm. “I have boundaries to this deal.”

Bill groaned, pulling his hand back and sinking down to the ground, slumping back against his statue. “Fine,” he sighted, trying to sound bored. “I’m listening.”

“You are not to harm or possess Mabel, Stan, Ford, or anyone else. You are not to restart or recreate Weidmageddon. You are to be completely forthright and honest with me about everything you are doing so that I know you’re not scheming and conniving behind my back. You are to comply to every detail of our deal and additionally after you bring Mabel back you are to swear to me that you will not possess her nor let any harm come to her.”

“May I counter those?”

Dipper narrowed his eyes but nodded.

“I agree to not harming Sixer or the old geezer; I’ve had my fun with them anyway. I will protect Shooting Star as you so wish, but there is a limit as to how much I can do and for how long I can do it, say… until the day you die?”

Dipper shook his head. “No, you’re to protect her beyond that. You are to protect her until the day she dies, after a long and healthy life.”

Bill glared at Dipper. “You’re being very picky for someone so desperate to make this deal.”

“I’m being thorough,” Dipper corrected him. “There’s a difference.”

“Oh?” Bill prompted.

“I’m just trying to make sure that I’m not going to repeat the mistakes I made when I was twelve.”

“Like aiding in bringing about the end of the world?” Bill asked, his voice bitter and cynical. He was prying, trying to find Dipper’s pressure points. “Or betraying your sister’s trust and summoning a demon who promised you infinite knowledge instead of helping her with her puppet show? Or leading your sister into battle against a demonic entity that you stood no chance against, leading to her death?”

“If you’re going to be an ass about this then I’d like to wake up now,” Dipper growled.

“Fine,” Bill sighed, sitting upright. “If you want me to be completely honest with you, here it is: if I bring back your sister, that will require me physically splitting her from your genetic coding – I can’t revive her corpse and we both know you’ve had issues with raising the dead before – but when it comes to the duplication process, I will need to physically inhabit your body, but once I’m done I won’t possess you. But you should be warned that there is a high probability that you will not survive this.”

“I don’t care if I die,” Dipper muttered.

“Fine. But I get you.”

“What?” Dipper gasped, shocked.

“After all of this I own you,” Bill repeated. “Not to possess – been there, don’t that, not a fan of how that turned out.”

“You don’t own me,” Dipper growled. “And don’t for a second think you have the power here, Bill.”

“You want your sister back, don’t you? I’m the only one who can do that without causing a temporal rift, tear in the fabric of reality, creating a paradox or a distortion in time,” the demon said smugly. “I think I have an adequate amount of power in this situation, don’t you, Pine Tree?”

“What would your claim of me entail?” Dipper asked cautiously.

Bill shrugged.

“No possession or mutilation?”

“Nope.”

“No forced deals?”

“No.”

“Then what?” Dipper asked, losing his patience.

“Pretty much you’ll belong to me. Like property. No other beings – physical, spiritual or demonic – can have you. You will be mine and mine alone. I mean, I’ll share you with Shooting Star and maybe some of those people you call your friends, but you will be mine.”

“Fine. So in turn for you bringing back Mabel and keeping her safe, I let you live and give you a claim over me?” Dipper reiterated.

“Sounds like a deal.” Bill sat upright, lifting himself up to hover before Dipper’s face. Dipper flinched as Bill snapped his fingers. Bright blue flames engulfed his hand, flickering about and whipping the air, crackling as they reached out for Dipper, beckoning him.

“So, do we have a deal, Pine Tree?”

Dipper inhaled deeply, reaching out his hand to return the demon’s gesture. He watched as the pale blue flames seeped over his hand, caressing his arm with a cool relief that he hadn’t expected. A shiver rolled down his spine as the flames crept up his arm.

“Deal.”

 

 

Endless winding hallways surrounded him, covered with wooden doors of varying shapes and sizes. The spaces between the openings were lined with dull grey Post-It notes, letters and symbols jumbled and unreadable from the dreamscape. The usual beige walls of the Shack were dulled to a dreary grey, worn down and deteriorating. The wavering plaster left him nauseous, an unsettling reminder of how unstable his mind was. The dream world held the same smell as the real house; the musky furniture, damp but not rotting walls and the sweet scent of the birch trees which surrounded the Shack. The wooden floorboards paved the halls, thick planks upturned with rusty nails protruding from the dark flesh. An inky black abyss dwelled beneath the openings, bubbling like tar and seeping towards the holes.

He didn’t question why or how Bill had brought him here.

It was his home. But it was all wrong.

It was eerily quiet.

“Bill,” Dipper called. His voice echoed down the halls.

Silence returned, making Dipper’s heart skip a beat; quiet meant that Bill was up to no good.

“Bill?”

He waited, seething and suspicious.

“Bill?!”

“Over here, kid,” finally came the reply.

Dipper lurched down the hallway, rounding the corner to see Bill leaning against the open door of one of his memories.

Dipper was momentarily taken aback by the sight of the demon’s obnoxiously bright yellow body.

Without a word, Dipper joined him in the doorway.

They stared at the memory of the first time Bill had possessed Dipper, the boy’s body flopping about as the demon laugh psychotically.

Dipper swallowed hard. He pulled the door shut and growled, “I thought I told you not to go looking through my memories?”

“I have to in order to compile list of memories for Shooting Star And technically I’m not intruding if I’m in them,” the demon argued.

Bill turned and looked at Dipper. He tilted his head and squinted at the Post-It note stuck to the doorframe. He looked from the jumbled letters to Dipper and slowly reached out to play with Dipper’s curls. “You’ve grown up so much.”

Dipper swatted his hand away. Before he had a chance to respond, Bill had vanished down the hallway.

“Bill!” Dipper cried after him, trying as hard as he could to match the demon’s speed. He rounded corner after corner, pivoting his ankles and stumbling down the long hallways, driving him deeper into the labyrinth. He looked frantically around the dreamscape. His stomach churned. This wasn’t good.

He caught sight of a pale glimmer at the end of the hallway. He ran as fast as he could to stop Bill from prying.

He stopped at the door and caught sight of himself sitting upright among tossed sheets, panting from yet another horrific nightmare. His curled-up figure shivered as the breeze rolled up his spine, his shoulders shuddering as he cried, along in the silence of the cold night: crying for his sister.

Dipper slammed the door shut, glaring at Bill.

The demon looked stunned. Silent, for once, as he stared, wide-eyed, at the door.

A second later he was over it. Bill inhaled sharply. His lips pried back into his usual shit-eating grin. “Okay. What’s up, Pine Tree?”

“How do we do this?” Dipper asked.

“It’s pretty simple really, I recreate a physical form from your genetic coding – which will be easy considering you’re twins – and then implant shared memories: some I know from previous encounters with her in the dreamscape, others I will have to pull from you - - that’s the difficult bit.”

“You’re going to make me relive all the memories of her?” Dipper reiterated.

“Yes,” Bill replied bluntly, not remorseful but not taking pleasure in the pain he will have to inflict upon the boy, which was strange considering everything he had done to the twins four years ago.

After a moment of silence Bill looked at Dipper. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“I want Mabel back,” Dipper said with finality.

“Okay,” Bill sighed. He held up his hand, brandishing an ornate dagger. He narrowed his gaze, the blade igniting in a bright blue flame. “Let’s begin.”

He lunged forward, burying the blade deep into Dipper’s chest.

Dipper screamed as searing agony tore through his body. The open wound spewed blood, the crimson streams evaporating into wisps of thin smoke, misting his eyes like fog and blurring Bill’s image.

He blinked his heavy eyes, listening to the soft sobs that broke the silence of the night.

He turned, looking through the thick wooden bars of his crib and across the room to where Mabel tossed about in her crib.

He rolled onto his side, kicking his feet free of the blanket and climbing over the edge of his crib. He dropped down to the ground, stumbling about on his chubby legs as he crawled across the room and clambered up into his twin’s cot. He toppled down onto the mattress and rolled over to her side.

She was nearly two years old and teething. She felt hot and her nose was snotty, but she didn’t seem to be able to get comfortable.

He gently patted the soft fuzz of hair that cushioned her head and she began to settle, looking up at Dipper with an adorable smile, a couple of pearly white teeth pushing through her gums.

He laid down next to her, wrapping his small, chubby fingers around her hands.

Her eyelids fell heavy over her dark eyes and her sobs softened to deep breaths as he let his own eyes fall shut.

He felt a cool autumn breeze roll over him as he sniffed against the cold. Mabel sat beside him, shaking her head and watching her perfectly braided hair and colourful hair ties bounce back and forth, whipping the air.

Dipper shrugged his shoulders, sinking further in the plush fabric of his jacket.

The next thing he heard was his sister’s distraught cry. He turned, eyes wide with worry as he noticed the thick clump of pink bubble gum that was stuck in her hair.

Her tears streaked her face and her eyes were red.

The teacher called her up to get her photo taken.

He leapt into action without thinking, running the electric razor through his hair and smiling at his sister as she did the same thing. She pulled him into her arms, hugging him close and thankfully as she slung an arm from his shoulder and smiled as the kind photographer took their photo.

The memory seemed to flake away, disturbed by a gust of wind that blew the leaves in front of his face. A heavy weight slammed into his chest and he found himself laying on the concrete sidewalk, pinned down by the weight of a larger boy.

“See?” the boy asked, knocking Dipper’s had off and exposing the strange deformity of his birthmark. “Look at the freak.”

A couple of the kids around him began to laugh, some making noises of disgust and others making off comments as they stared at him with wide eyes. Like he was a freak in a museum.

“It looks like a willy,” one of them laughed. “He has a willy on his forehead.”

“Willy boy!” one squealed, leading the others into a chorus of chanting the insult.

He closed his eyes and lifted his hands to shield his face.

The next thing he knew there was a flash of pink and the screams of ten or more boys.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, looking at the droplets of blood that were splattered across the pale skin of a balled fist. Not his or theirs. Hers.

One of the boys held his nose, thick crimson streams of blood leaking through his fingers.

“You’d better leave my brother alone or I’ll make you regret it!” Mabel shouted after them as they ran away, stumbling over their own feet and crying.

Mabel turned to Dipper and held out her hand, the one that wasn’t splattered with blood, and helped him sit upright.

He stumbled on his feet falling forward through a rush of images and memories, like flicking through the glittery pages of one of Mabel’s photo albums. Flickering images of her beautiful smile passed him, her radiant energy filling him with warmth.

But all good things come to an end. He found himself talking to her about his apprenticeship with Ford, about how he wouldn’t leave Gravity Falls and how she would go home alone.

His heartbeat faltered and stomach twisted into knots as glistening tears streamed her cheeks.

“Mabel,” he whispered, instantly regretting the words that had fallen from his mouth. He wanted to take it back, he wanted to change what happened. He wanted to tell her that he’ll be with her no matter what, but the words fell silent, he knew he couldn’t change what happened.

Mabel shoved past him and sprinted out of the Shack.

“Mabel!” he cried, chasing after her, shattering the memory and leaping into the monochromatic maze of the dreamscape.

“Kid, calm down,” Bill called, his voice distant, muffled. “Pine Tree, get yourself together. It’s just a memory.”

Dipper fell weak, collapsing against the grey grain of the dreamscape’s imitation of the Mystery Shack.

“Are you okay, kid?” Bill asked.

“I’m glad you’re in my head, because at least that way I never have to look at you. I don’t have to remember what you did.” Dipper leapt to his feet and turned, shoving past Bill and storming down the hallway.

“Pine Tree!”

The walls warped before him, blocking his path.

“Let me out,” Dipper growled, staring blankly at the swirling tides of grain. His hands were clenched into tight fists, his white knuckles pressed against his pale skin and trembling.

“If you leave now I can’t save her,” Bill called after him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dipper sobbed.

“I know this must hurt you. But it’ll be over soon. Just stay strong like I know you can.”

He had no warning before the next memory washed over him. He didn’t want to look. He knew what it was.

“ _Eennie..._ ”

“No,” Dipper gasped as his mind lit up red, the dark silhouette of a pine tree pressing against his back.

He felt his lungs burn, his tears choked out of him as Bill’s grip tightened around his waist.

He tried to remind himself it wasn’t real, it was just a memory, but it hurt. It felt so real.

Bill blinked, the shape of the pine tree symbol disappearing as cold, inky black shadows rolled over them.

“ _Meenie_ …”

The eye flew open again and red light returned, Bill’s iris taking the shape of a shooting star.

Dipper tuned to Mabel, eyes wide as he watched her push against Bill’s hand, desperate to break free of the demon’s hold.

He wanted to call out to her, to tell her he’s sorry for everything he’s ever done wrong, to tell her he loved her and to say all the things he wished he could say. But he couldn’t. He felt the words scratch at his throat, but he couldn’t say them.

Bill’ tightened his grip, making the children wheeze and whimper. Dipper felt his ribs burn as blood pooled around the torn flesh.

Bill blinked again.

“ _Miney_ …”

“No,” Dipper whimpered.

The twins looked up at the glowing eye that loomed over them.

Dipper held his breath, slowly reaching across the space between him and Mabel with his trembling his hand.

The light disappeared again.

Bill blinked his eyes open.

“ _You_!”

The harsh light blinded them, but the shape was unmistakable.

Shooting star.

Bill raised his free hand, pressing the buds of this thick black fingers together.

“No!” Dipper screamed, the howl tearing at his dry throat and emptying his lungs, but it was too late. The demon snapped his fingers, the deafening snap ringing in Dipper’s ears. His eyes burnt with tears of pain and his head span as the muffled world around him slowly came back into clarity. The second it did, he wished it hadn’t. He turned to his twin, watching her eyes light up yellow and her dark pupils split. Her mouth was wide open, an agonising scream tearing past her soft pink lips. It rattled in Dipper’s chest and for a moment he could swear he felt some of his twin’s pain.

He looked into her eyes, startled by the how much pain flooded her dark irises.

“Mabel,” Dipper cried, reaching out for his sister, hands trembling as he strained against Bill’s hold, pummelling his hand and clawing his way towards his twin.

Glistening tears fell past her heavy eyelashes, ruby-red droplets of blood falling after them, caressing her cheeks and leaving thick red trails of blood that clung to her skin. Splatters of blood and strings of saliva fell from her lips, the bitter smell of copper burning at Dipper’s nose, his gut twisting as he watched helplessly, tears streaming from his eyes.

Mabel’s irises returned to normal. Almost.

The once-glistening depths of her eyes swarmed with ghosts, swirling like smoke against glass. Dipper swallowed hard, unable to look away from his sister’s lifeless body as she collapsed, her weak, slender body slumping against Bill’s hand.

Dipper was screaming, tears falling without restraint.

Thin ribbons of blood glistened as they trickled across Mabel’s pale skin and dripped across the bridge of her nose and pooling on Bill’s hand before falling to the ground. Strands of her wavy brown hair clung to the trails of blood that smeared her face, the frail ends flickering about, disturbed by the weak breeze that rolled through the gaping hole in the wall of Bill’s pyramid.

“Enough, Bill. Stop,” he commanded, voice croaking. Tears washed away his strength. “Stop it!”

“Pine Tree, wait. I’m nearly done,” Bill called.

“You were there, you know what happened!” Dipper howled. “You’re just doing this out of spite, just to hurt me.”

Dipper shook his head, the doors rattling and slamming as if a hurricane had blown through the halls.

He opened his mouth and screamed, “No more!”

The monochrome world shattered around them, fragments falling like shards of a shattered mirror. The boiling black tar flooded through the cracks in the floor, engulfing them and plunging them into inescapable darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

****

“Dipper?”

The voice seemed so familiar, so soft that he didn’t recognise it at first. It seemed a little different from how it had been years ago. So different, yet still the same.

He blinked his eyes open, groaning as the light burned at his eyes. He lifted his arm to shield his eye, feeling the damp skin of his tear-stained cheeks press against his forearms. He cringed and sat up, slumping against the warmth of the figure that sat before him. His head lolled forward, dropping to her shoulder as he blinked– struggling to keep his heavy eyelids. He inhaled deeply, smelling the soft fragrance of sweet pines and flowers.

“Dipper?” Any other time she’d be giggling and shoving him off, but her voice was full of genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” he groaned, voice slurred. “Just fell asleep is all.”

He opened his eyes and lifted his head to look at her, to make sure she was real.

Soft brown eyes returned his gaze, her pale face glowing in the sunlight. Her soft cheeks were framed by the cascading waves of thick brown hair. She was as beautiful as ever; a flush of pink showing the life that had returned to her radiant skin – a drastic contrast when compared to the complexion of her twin. She didn’t look like the sweet little twelve-year-old girl she had been, she was sixteen, just like Dipper.

“Oh, bro, why’d you do it?”

“I had to… for you.”

“Why?” Mabel asked.

“Together forever,” Dipper muttered. “That’s what I promised you.”

He quickly stripped off his shirt and wound it around Mabel’s bare shoulders. She slid her arms into the sleeves as Dipper frantically buttoned up the front.

“Geez, you got big, bro bro,” Mabel chirped, flapping her arms about to show how the sleeves hung over her hands.

“Told you I’d get there… eventually.”

“No more noodle arms?” she teased, poking at his bicep.

“No more noodle arms,” Dipper confirmed.

He pulled her close, wrapping her in his strong arms and cradling her against the warmth of his chest. He gently rocked her.

Burning agony radiated down his left side, draw his attention to his arm. The thick red smears of blood had vanished. The large puffy lines of scars and the newly engraved wound were gone too, replaced by the thin black lines of what seemed to be a tattoo. It was surrounded by rings of symbols and lettering, scribbles of notes that perfectly reflected those in the Journals.

He shrugged. At least it didn’t look bad.

Mabel sighed and leant back, giving Dipper a pained look.

Dipper tried to smile, but the novelty wore off when he blinked heavily and collapsed in Mabel’s arms.

“Dipper,” she squawked, panicked.

“Just tired,” Dipper mumbled.

“One last thing,” Mable said quietly. “What are we going to do about him?”

Dipper lifted his head, about to ask ‘Who?’ when his eyes fell upon the person in question.

He was a young man, same age as the twins, with thick blonde hair with a faded black undercut and eyes so dark that they almost seemed black. His skin was golden and clung to his firm muscles, sculpted and gorgeous. His body was covered in tattoos: runes running up his right arm, cuffs of triangles circling his left bicep, a small line-art eye on the nape of his neck and a large mural on his back, shaped like the isosceles statue before them and emphasises by the backing of lines that radiated horizontally in arrows, curls and half-written runes.

Dipper froze for a moment, his eyes wide with shock as he looked back up at the boy’s face, at his unmistakable shit-eating grin.

“Hey, Pine Tree,” Bill greeted.

Dipper waned to be mad, he wanted to scream and pummel the demon and make him feel pain, but he couldn’t; his body was too weak.

“You should rest,” Bill instructed, guessing Dipper’s thoughts.

“Let’s get you back to the Shack,” Mabel said, interrupting the two of them and glancing about the forest. She took a moment to orientate herself before she lifted Dipper’s arms around her shoulder and helped him to his feet, bracing his weight on her own.

She seemed pretty stable for someone who had been put in a more developed body after four years of not existing.

She moved cautiously through the undergrowth, trying to avoid the sharp branches that scratched at her bare heels as she helped Dipper stagger over fallen logs. Finally they made it into the clearing and back up to the Shack. Mabel shoved the door open, hauling Dipper into the kitchen and ungracefully dumping him in one of the old rickety chairs.

Bill disappeared upstairs and began to rummage through cupboards for clothes while Mabel rifled through the cupboards and pulled out a glass, musing about how some things never seemed to change.

Dipper hummed in agreement, watching as she filled the glass with water and set it before her brother.

He lifted the glass of cool liquid to his lips, feeling the relief flood his body as the cold water flowed through him. He watched as the distorted reflection of his face began to ripple and shift on the surface of the water.

Slowly, he lowered the glass, watching the lingering droplets fall back down to the bottom of the glass.

Dipper drew in a deep breath and looked up to Mabel, opening his mouth to say something, but the words never came out. He blinked, his lips trembling around the unspoken words before falling shit again. He turned away and looked down at the glass in his hands.

“What?” Mabel encouraged.

“Nothing,” Dipper muttered, shaking his head.

“What is it, Dipper?” Mabel asked, her voice firm and insistent as she narrowed her glare on her brother.

“It’s nothing,” Dipper assured her.

“Don’t lie to me, bro bro,” his sister warned.

Dipper opened his mouth to reply when they were – gratefully – interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open.

“Dipper Pines,” Wendy howled as she stormed into the house. “I swear, I will kill you. I told you to do one thing! One thing! Answer your bloody phone.”

She burst into the kitchen, instantly falling silent as her eyes fell upon the boy slumped in the rackety old chair and the second figure standing by the sink, dressed only in a shirt. For a moment it looked as if Wendy was going to scold him for leaving his companion in a state of undress, but something about the girl silenced her.

A glimmer of recognition and remembrance passed over Wendy’s face. She blinked rapidly as if trying to dispel an illusion or shake herself from a waking nightmare.

“It’s not possible…” Wendy gasped, all strength and hostility vanishing from her voice. “M-Mabel?

Mabel smiled sweetly and chirped, “Hi.”

Wendy dropped everything she was holding and raced to the girl’s side, cupping Mabel’s face and staring at her intently, as if she was scared the image would shatter or as if it were someone in a mask. She glanced over her shoulder at Dipper and asked, “I’m not imagining this, right?”

Dipper shook his head and smiled weakly.

Soft tears fell down Wendy’s face as she pulled Mabel into her arms. She held Mabel close, scared to let her go from her suffocatingly tight grasp.

Dipper could hear Wendy’s soft sobs as she buried her face in the mess of Mabel’s chestnut hair and began to cry with relief.

But the moment of bliss passed in seconds as Wendy wheeled about on the boy, all joy gone from her expression, leaving her face old and stern. “Dipper, what did you do?”

Dipper swallowed hard, finding his voice as he rasped, “I had to.”

As if on queue, Bill entered, dressed in one of Dipper’s threadbare tee-shirts and one of the few pairs of clean jeans he owned. He didn’t acknowledge, Wendy’s presences as he crossed the space and offered a stack of clothes to Mabel.

“Who’s…?” Wendy’s voice fell short as she caught a sight of Dipper’s arm, the dark black lines of the summoning circle. She looked form the tattoo up to Bill, her eyes growing wide as she realised what was going on. She reached across the counter top and grabbed a knife. “Get out!”

“Wendy,” Dipper shouted, leaping from his chair and holding her back. He pinned her back against the benchtop and stepped in between them, shielding Mabel and Bill with his body. “Wendy, wait, I can explain.”

Wendy froze.

Dipper pulled the knife free of her hand, tossing it onto the benchtop before grabbing her wrist and dragging her outside onto the porch.

She waited out until Dipper had shut the door before she pulled her hand free and turned on him.

“What the hell is going on, Dipper?” Wendy exclaimed. “You brought him back?”

“I had to,” Dipper replied weakly.

“Do you not remember everything he put us through? Why the hell would you do something so stupid?!”

“Because I couldn’t live without Mabel!” Dipper shouted, matching Wendy’s volume and silencing her. After a moment, he swallowed hard and lowered his voice, speaking calmly as he explained, “Losing a sibling is bad enough, but you can’t imagine the pain of losing a twin. It’s like… there’s a hole that nothing can fix, like I’ve lost half of who I am and it’s not something that therapy or medication is ever going to change. I can’t live without her, Wendy. I needed my sister.”

“So you brought back Bill?” Wendy asked.

“I made a deal to bring Mabel back,” Dipper corrected. “I covered all my bases and made sure he couldn’t double cross me somehow.”

“Oh God,” Wendy moaned, stumbling back and slumping down on the tattered old couch.

“It’s okay,” Dipper assured her. “It’ll be okay.”

“No, this isn’t about that… I got a message from Stan earlier today, he and Ford are coming home,” Wendy announced. “They’ve docked the Stan O’ War II and are heading back to Gravity Falls. They’ll be here in a day or two. How the hell are you going to explain this to them?”

Dipper’s eyes grew wide with shock. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“Because you didn’t seem like you were in a mental state that could process it,” Wendy admitted.

“How am I meant to explain this to them without being torn limb from limb?” Dipper asked, looking to Wendy for guidance.

Wendy thought about it for a moment before she offered, “You could call them out on their hypocrisy,”

“What?” Dipper asked.

“Stan spent thirty years of his life trying to bring Ford back,” Wendy reminded him. “So, if he tells you off for doing what you could to save Mabel, you could call him out on his hypocrisy.”

Dipper nodded and looked at Wendy, his eyes glimmering with pain as he rasped, “I’m sorry.”

“I just can’t believe you’d do something this stupid,” Wendy scolded him. “At least not without talking to us about it first.”

“I didn’t want you talking me out of it,” Dipper explained.

“Maybe we would have, maybe we wouldn’t have, the point is I don’t want you feeling like you can’t talk to us,” Wendy replied.

Dipper sighed and sat down next to her on the couch. He reached across and took Wendy’s hand in his own as he said, “I know I can talk to you, but this was just something I had to do myself.”

“Dip, this is going to take time to get used to-”

“As long as it took for us to get used to her being dead?” Dipper countered.

Wendy turned to look at Dipper. “Soos and Melody are going to freak when they come home.”

“I know, and I’m going to need your help,” Dipper said pleadingly.

“Fine,” Wendy agreed.  “I will need to call my brothers and tell them I’ll be home later. I’ll stay just as long as it takes to calm Soos and Melody down, but then I need to go home and make sure my brothers don’t do any more damage.”

“Okay,” Dipper agreed, relieved.

“I’ll get Mabel set up in a room and I’ll bring some of my clothes over tomorrow so she’s not dressed in your rags,” Wendy teased.

Dipper nodded.

“As for Bill…” Wendy’s voice drifted off.

“I’ll take care of him,” Dipper assured her. “I’ll give him some of my clothes until I get the chance to get him more – might have to order them online and have them delivered; I don’t trust him to stay here alone or go out in public – and I’ll roll out a mattress in my bedroom to keep an eye on him.”

Wendy nodded thoughtfully.

“Keep a close eye on him,” she insisted.

“I made sure that part of the deal was that he wouldn’t start or continue Weirdmaggedon and he has to be forthright with anything magic-related, so that’s a start,” Dipper pointed out. “That still doesn’t mean I trust him.”

“Good,” Wendy muttered. “Don’t drop your defences, not even for a second. I don’t want him to hurt you.”

“I won’t let him hurt me or anyone else,” Dipper insisted. “Never again.”

“Good.” She looked Dipper up and down, prodding his bare bicep as she chuckled, “Now, go put a shirt on.”

Dipper smirked and rose to his feet, making his way inside.

“Mabes,” Dipper called as he made his way through the house. “Wendy’s going to help you get set up in the attic.”

“You don’t want the attic?” Mabel called from the bathroom.

Dipper swallowed hard, looking at the starts at the far end of the hallway. His voice cracked slightly under strain as he replied, “Nah, it’s all yours.”

He turned and made his way into his bedroom, grabbing a shirt from the pile and sniffing at it to check it was clean. He pulled it on when someone came barging into his room.

“Jesus Christ!” Dipper yelped.

“Not quite,” Bill replied. “Farthest thing from it actually.”

“What do you want, Bill?” Dipper growled.

Dipper held out a couple of bags. “Ice pack said to give you these.”

“Thanks,” Dipper said, his voice dry and his words far from genuine, as he reached forward and took the bags. He began to rummage through it, pulling out a few long-sleeve shirts – plaid and red, just how Dipper liked it – and a bunch of tee-shirts that came in black, white and grey – simple and practical. Dipper pulled the tags off of them and stored them away in the closed.

He turned, watching as Bill eyed the pile of clothes by the closet.

Dipper sighed and began to pick up the shirts and jeans, sorting through what was clean and what had absorbed the musky scent of the Shack enough that they’d need to be washed again.

Finally, the pile was cleared away.

Dipper turned and looked at Bill, his eyes rolling over the teen’s body.

“See something you like, Pine Tree?” Bill teased.

“Not in the least,” Dipper snarled. “I’m just wondering why you look like that.”

“Because this is what you thought I’d look like,” Bill answered. “I said I wanted a body. That was part of our deal. And instead of breaking you apart twice, I thought it’d be easier to build an image of myself from your imagination while I was rifling through the memories of Shooting Star. This is what you thought up and, I’ve got to admit, you’ve got quite the imagination, Pine Tree.”

“Don’t mock me,” Dipper growled, making his way out into the hallway and pulling open a cupboard.

He grabbed one of the mattresses they used for guests – not that the get them often – and tossed it into Bill’s arms.

“Go put that on the bedroom floor,” Dipper instructed.

“Your bedroom?” Bill clarified.

“Yes.”

“We’re… sharing a room?” Bill asked, tilting his head as he looked at Dipper.

“Yes,” Dipper repeated. “Enough questions, just take that and go put it in my room, we’ll deal with it later.”

“Okay,” Bill muttered, turning to do so.

Dipper watched him leave, shocked by how human he seemed in that moment.

He sighed heavily.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [PREVIOUS NOTE DELETED]
> 
> EDIT:  
> So it's been a long while since I've worked on this fic, and I'm going to be honest: I've lost interest in it. I did have some stuff planned but I've been struggling to write it and get any further than what has been posted here on AO3. So the truth is, this fic will remain a W.I.P.   
> I WILL NOT be writing any more of it.  
> I'm sorry if I've disappointed you, but I just can't continue with this fic.

**Author's Note:**

> celestialvoid-fanfiction.tumblr.com


End file.
